The Warrior
By Faerlyte
She was confused. For a long time all there seemed to be were the wounded and the dead being tended to by the living. There was no clash of swords or rapid gunfire, no shouts of alarm that she could hear. It didn't seem possible that a revolt of the scale Angeal alluded to could be going on anywhere in their vicinity.
They rounded a street corner that was scarcely a whisper of its former self. The building had been demolished by the explosion, scattering debris across the road and into the shops lining the opposite street. She and Chaka had to pick their way through and by the time they had reached the other side she could hear it.
Gunfire: semi-automatic rifles, not the standard assault rifle of Shin-Ra SOLDIER 3rd class. There was fighting going on alright, and the majority of it sounded like the resistance.
"Wish you'd brought that fancy rifle I hear tell Angeal gave ya," Chaka mentioned as he lead the way. "Be right useful about now."
Tifa was glad she didn't. Of which side she stood in this war she didn't yet know, but there was no questioning her disdain for all things Shin-Ra. But there were also dead civilians in the street to consider.
Dead civilians that lived above the plate, she reminded herself. They lived above the plate because they were loyal Shin-Ra employees or in the pockets of them. What about the people who lay dead and cold in the slums?
That was an internal debate for another time though.
They arrived in time to save one squad of SOLDIER riflemen that had managed to hold off the onslaught that had struck them by surprise. Darting between cover down the street were men and women dressed in hand-me-down patchwork clothes and grungy leather shoes . They were equipped with crude blades and custom rifles, but in capable hands they were more than enough to finish off the remains of the squadron that had not made it to cover in time.
Tifa frowned in concern. A force such as this, which was undisciplined and untrained, had managed to force back SOLDIER troops. Grant it, the SOLDIERs were primarily 3rd class, but usually that was more than enough to fend off the poor and desolate.
Clearly, that was not the case here. Something had changed, or SOLDIER wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
Off to her left, Chaka was attempting to take control of the situation, barking out orders and forming a cohesive defense. The SOLDIERs huddled behind whatever they could find - vehicles, debris, buildings - and fired barrages at regular intervals, but did not engage the enemy outright. Their dead comrades were scattered across the open pavement where they had tried – but no one had been expecting a force of any size and certainly not one so well organized.
Tifa stood back, uncertain of her role, and watched as Chaka directed the attack. In some ways she envied him. He seemed to know what to do in a situation where every second counted, whereas she was standing at a loss. To think that they wanted to make a First Class out of her; it was laughable in an unfunny sort of way.
Her eyes caught on the hulking figure of a man in the distance. A volley of bullets that sounded like a gatling gun fired from a massive attachment at his wrist. He was flanked by two men, one rail thin, and the other heavy set. They advanced on the line, ducking behind parked cars as they waved their comrades forward
It was clear that they were the ones in control of the situation.
Tifa continued to watch the man with a grim sort of fascination. His dark eyes were hardened like granite from years spent in suppression beneath the plates and he gazed across the proceedings with a calm sort of detachment that made her skin shiver. He was a leader of men, unlike some people she knew.
A second later and the reflexes for which she had been singled out by Angeal on her first day saved her life.
The darting glint of steel materialized from the alleyway to her right. She spun deftly to the side, grabbed the shadowed figure by the wrist, and gave it a sharp twist. There was a masculine howl of pain as the knife clattering to the concrete. Stepping swiftly inside and using her body as leverage, Tifa launched him sailing over her shoulder and he slammed to the ground with bone breaking force. She knocked him out cold with a punch to the jaw.
"Right flank, Chaka!" Tifa shouted, and sprang back on the defense as the remaining ambush emerged from the secluded alley.
A silver bullet burst past her with a gust of air that nearly knocked her off her feet. She had the sudden sensation of standing still as the world spun away from her. Then she blinked, and a trail of bodies met her dazed expression.
Voices rang out in alarm from up ahead and Tifa whirled around. The Silver General had been spotted and the man with the gun arm was on his feet and sounding a retreat. He fired a barrage rapid enough that Sephiroth himself was forced to take cover or catch a bullet. The resistance force split at the end of the street, taking opposite paths. A resonating boom wracked the ground as a smoke bomb was set off to cover their escape.
Sephiroth pursued at once, leaving behind the forces of SOLDIER who stood back in vague wonder, their guns hanging limply at their sides. No one moved.
Tifa once again found herself under the influence of irrational rage. He had decimated five people in the space of a second and had not spared a word for the men who had knelt here maintaining the defense at risk of their lives. He had left them behind without so much as a thought or order, intent on doing the job himself.
Her brow leveled in an angry scowl at the anti-climactic ending. Sephiroth was gone for scarcely five minutes before he landed quite suddenly in front of them. Her heart gave a start and she glanced up. Where had he come from?
"You lose them?" Chaka asked.
Sephiroth's mouth twitched ever so slightly, "They hopped a train – I have sent word, but it is doubtful that they will still be on it when back up arrives."
Tifa found that hard to believe, but she was still stewing in anger over his earlier behavior to think too much of it. She remained rooted in place, unable to move for the twisting of bitter disappointment in her gut. This was appalling to all of her sensibilities, especially as a fighter.
This was what boys everywhere aspired to? A self-serving egotist who neglected them?
Sephiroth noticed her staring at him and his lips formed a scowl to equal hers, "Have you something to say, SOLDIER?" He bit out curtly.
Her chest heaved in indignation and she took a calming breath. They were starting to draw some attention, "Sir, can I have a word?"
He blinked, as if what she asked was simply incomprehensible. It dawned on her that he probably did not regularly lower himself to speaking with SOLDIERs, let alone answering requests. She wholly expected him to reply with a sharp rebuke.
He did not.
"Very well," He said and gestured to the deserted alley from which the earlier ambush had come.
Tifa followed him resolutely as the heat of a dozen curious stares pricked her back. She had to pick her way carefully, avoiding the pools of stagnant blood from the fallen. When he stopped and turned to face her, she pulled her shoulders back and her chin up.
"Speak." He commanded and crossed his arms impatiently.
Words failed her for one horrifying instant, but she gathered her courage and forged ahead, "A great General, sir," She stated evenly, "is a leader of men who eschews glory for the sake of making those who fight beside him better."
She glared, as if to dare him to refute her.
His eyes narrowed as he regarded her shrewdly, "Am I to take it that you disapprove of my technique?"
She inhaled shakily, "I mean to say that a skilled warrior you might be, but what good will it do them," she gestured to the SOLDIERs milling about. "—if they cannot be allowed to fight properly under your direction, and gain confidence from it?"
A tiny muscle I his cheek appeared to twitch, "The title 'General' came into being through an over-eager fan base, I regret to say," He explained, "I bear no such responsibility within the hierarchy of SOLDIER."
Tifa's shoulders slumped and she frowned unhappily, "But then…" Her heart actually sank and she gazed up at him entreatingly, "-you're not a General at all…all this...all the talk, the Greatest General of all time…none of it is true?"
At that Sephiroth's brow lowered a fraction, casting shadows over his eyes. He stared back at her wordlessly and it occurred to her that he didn't know what to say. Something like doubt flitted across his face and he looked away.
"Well, maybe you should start," Tifa suggested, and she didn't know why the next words came out, but they did, "—they all look up to you so much…they want to be like you, they believe in you …" Her determination hardened and she took a step towards him, "How can you waste such potential when it's practically groveling at your feet?"
She almost wanted to cry at the absurdity. Sephiroth was an imposter of his own image. Here he had all the power in the world at his fingertips – a force that she was certain, if he put in the effort, could be made into an unstoppable army – and he didn't even pretend to lead it. He just didn't care.
"Unless you can't lead," Tifa opined bluntly, "and skill is all you have to fight with."
Some unconscious part of her was aware that she had over stepped her bounds, but where Sephiroth was concerned she didn't care. Thus far he had proved surprisingly indifferent, despite her absurd behavior. Suffice it to say, however, that just about did it for his patience.
Sephiroth's eyes hardened like steal and he leaned towards her imposingly, "Careful, SOLDIER." He warned, "My tolerance for insubordination only goes so far."
Tifa gritted her teeth from blurting out something that would escalate matters any further. "Insubordination to what? You can do no more to me." She muttered and turned away, feeling suddenly very foolish and tired. "Just forget it."
She supposed, had it been any other commanding officer, she would have been seriously in for it. With Sephiroth she recognized a certain reluctance to deal out punishment for trifling matters. For all his prestige, he was not much of a disciplinarian when it came to protocols. His disregard for the men who would follow him and his reluctance to call her out now were both proof of that.
Sephiroth was left standing alone, the unearthly glow of his eyes filling the now almost abandoned alleyway. He stared after the SOLDIER's retreating back, wondering how the world had so swiftly turned under his feet. The words seemed to burn inside of him.
His nerves tingled with something unidentifiable, but distinctly unsettling. Not for the first time he felt as if the boy somehow knew things about him that he didn't.
Knew more about him and disliked him immensely for it… Sephiroth did not like the feeling it left him. A feeling of not knowing something that it was imperative he remember, of being in the dark when everyone else was standing in the light. He knew that it must have something to do with the incident five years ago – an incident that had left his memory blank, and which no one had ever deemed necessary to clarify to him.
Chaka intercepted Tifa's escape, "What was that all about?" He asked.
Tifa shook her head, "It was nothing. What do we do now?"
Her friend made a face of resentment, "HQ is pulling us back for now – says the Turks will handle the pursuit from here."
"Oh, okay." She had no basis for disliking the Turks and didn't feel much of anything at the reference.
They were a special ops force, dwindling in number these days according to what she'd heard, who handled the companies dirty work. That alone was reason to hate them in her mind, but Tifa made an effort to reserve judgment to individuals. She had enough problems of her own without having to worry about them too.
"It's back to the helicopter for us."Chaka sighed and rounded up the remaining foot SOLDIERs. "Let's go – we're pulling out."
No one seemed surprised by this, though Tifa had to admit that she was. It was only a few minutes ago that they had been locked in battle. Wasn't there something they could do?
"What about the dead?" She asked, casting a hopeless glance at the bodies.
"Medics will clean it up." Chaka replied. "Angeal said to meet him back at HQ to discuss the situation, so we might not be out of the game yet."
Tifa wondered why he wanted to be in the game, because she didn't. Of course, everyone assumed she wanted to because she was here and missions were what SOLDIERs did. New recruits had a one month integration period before they started taking on missions though.
She hadn't even made it through her first week yet.
The highlight of the night was riding in the helicopter a second time. They were accompanied by Sephiroth, which took away slightly from the experience, but he kept to himself. She didn't quite know what she expected from him after their earlier conversation, but she was surprised to see him so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't even notice when they'd landed.
Even the General was prone to flights of fancy. Tifa wrinkled her nose. She really shouldn't be thinking of him like that anymore because he wasn't a General at all. He was just another SOLDIER, even if he was the best of them…
He could be so much more.
Tifa found she was hungry when they stepped off the helicopter and entered headquarters. They had missed dinner due to the reactor blowing and the ensuing battle. It was already ten past eight and so the cafeteria would be closed. The thought of going hungry for the rest of the night made her immediately grouchy.
According to the guard at the front doors, Angeal had not yet arrived. They hadn't taken two steps across the first floor lobby before Chaka's phone started ringing. He stopped mid stride and fumbled into his pocket to answer it.
The conversation was very brief.
"Sir?" His voice echoed.
Long silence…
"Yes, sir." And that was it.
Chaka put the phone away and turned around to face her, "The last of the resistance has been successfully subdued. Sounds like the majority of them got away though – Angeal's saying they've probably got a backdoor in the upper city somewhere and they're using it to pass above and below the plates undetected. "
That made sense. For them to have gotten the slip on Sephiroth they would have to have a secret route.
"We're on standby now, so nothing to do until we're told otherwise." Chaka said as they entered the elevator. He glanced her way as he settled against the wall, "You eat anything yet?"
Sephiroth, who had been so quiet in the intervening minutes that Tifa had completely forgotten he was even there, stepped into the elevator with them. He leaned his back against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, and gazed down at the floor with such intensity it was a wonder it didn't spontaneously combust. She had lost track of Chaka's question, her attention now firmly centered on the other man.
"Hey," Chaka said loudly. "Earth to Fry."
Both their heads jerked up at the same time, looking at Chaka as if they'd only just noticed he was there.
Chaka glanced between the two at a loss, "I was just going to say that if you want to get a bite to eat up at the big wigs restaurant, I'll buy."
That is how Tifa found herself seated in a luxuriously furnished, brightly lit room around a table with Chaka on her right and Sephiroth to her left. She hadn't even known this place existed. One look at the prices and she understood why.
It was not an establishment built with the humble foot soldier in mind. All of it seemed to bellow, 'I am too expensive'.
The bar was silver trimmed with a narrow strip of neon lights running the length of the perimeter, the floor immaculately polished green and silver plating, and the table tops were made of glass with laser engraved ivy boarders. There was a dance floor, a strobe light, and plush lounge chairs surrounding the perimeter.
Even the chairs contorted to the curve of the sitter's body, which was a novel sensation. Tifa wasn't sure whether she liked that feature, but it was certainly something to mark down in her book of interesting experiences.
They were the only SOLDIERs present, she noted, but no one appeared to care. It probably wasn't unusual for them to have the occasional SOLDIER come in to dine, just not very often. She glanced sideways, wondering if Sephiroth was a frequent customer of theirs.
He did know his way around, that much was clear. He had led them to a somewhat concealed table in the far corner of the room. There were fewer lights and it was the farthest from the speakers that were currently blaring out the latest hit in pop music.
Tifa perused the menu in silence, her expression shifting from one entre to the next in an varying degrees of disbelief. She was not aware that she had an audience and continued to frown, gawk, and otherwise be astounded by the attempted highway robbery taking place on the menu. She took one look at the chef's salad and had to restrain herself from snorting into her glass of water – they hadn't charged her for that yet, but she wasn't holding her breath.
It was all very expensive. There really was no point in opting for the cheap meal that she didn't really want just to save a few gil. Besides, she'd never had lobster before and if nothing else, she expected the food to be a step up in quality.
It had better be…
They waited at first, in silence. Chaka was, he thought, surreptitiously keeping an eye on one of the waitresses as Sephiroth subtly scowled at the SOLDIER's lack of subtlety. Tifa squirmed uncomfortably in her seat and couldn't stop throwing wary looks at the silver haired menace to her left.
She was eating dinner with the lunatic responsible for her father's death. How was that possible? On that same vein of thought, how was any of this possible? She shouldn't even be here.
Tifa sighed and leaned her elbows against the table, unaware that she had once again drawn the attention of the aforementioned menace. For the first time in many years, she found herself craving home – home, where she had lived most of her young life; home where there had been trails through the mountains to explore, forests to run through, and peaceful quiet.
She missed the country.
"You know," Chaka launched into conversation without warning, "I never asked where you came from, Fry."
Tifa fell still, her hands falling in her lap to worry themselves as she lowered her gaze to the table and scrambled for a reply, "I'm a country boy." She said and her brain winced. That felt silly.
"Whereabouts?" He asked unassumingly.
She was made instantly aware of Sephiroth's focused interest in her at this question. Her cheeks flushed and she had an overpowering compulsion to blurt out the truth, just to see how he would react, "Nibelheim."
Whatever Chaka had said got lost in the space between Sephiroth gazing at her with eerie concentration and her looking back in desperation. What she tried to see behind the abnormal slit pupils of his eyes was nowhere to be found. There was an empty, dark chasm in them where the memory should have been and signs of pain, horror, something, but there was no hint of recollection.
Tifa couldn't believe it; he didn't appear to remember. There was no spark of understanding, no flicker of madness – he simply looked at her as if he expected her to tell him what that meant, because he sure as hell didn't know, which was impossible.
Was that what he wanted?
Their meals couldn't have arrived in a more timely fashion. Tifa was relieved for the diversion and dug into hers with a vengeance – it was very good, grant it she'd never run across a lobster that wasn't good. She was also starving, but that had been forgotten temporarily with the sobering realization that Sephiroth was not who he should've been.
He was missing integral pieces to himself, which was quite possibly the only reason he was currently sane.
Tifa sat back suddenly and swallowed the morsel that had gone tasteless in her mouth. Her head turned to the subject of her ruminations and she set down her fork. Fear and uncertainty warred for precedence over her body – in the end neither won.
The act of eating, no matter how refined, is rather inelegant. It's hard to view things in quite same light when you're watching someone masticate a piece food. She was tempted by a bout of hysteria to laugh out loud at the sheer absurdity of the entire thing.
Here she was watching Sephiroth, greatest warrior of all time, madman extraordinaire, eating. His movements were slow and precise, so as not to draw attention to himself. It occurred to her with startling clarity that he was uncomfortable.
Realizing this, and the fact that she was unabashedly watching him, she jerked her attention back to her plate. She set back to finishing her meal and was relieved when the plate was finally taken away. Chaka leaned back with a satisfied sigh and rubbed his stomach.
"Man," He said, "it might break the bank, but it sure as hell beats eating out anywhere else."
Tifa gave a meditative nod, her thoughts still in a tangle of silver knots. She didn't dare so much as make a twitch in Sephiroth's direction. She'd spent far too much time sneaking glances his way as it was.
"Nibelheim, eh?" Chaka continued obliviously. "Heard of it, but never been there. Guess it is pretty out of the way out there."
"Yeah," Tifa answered quietly. Her helm lowered, obscuring her mouth as she tucked her chin behind her collar in an obvious attempt to avoid the topic of conversation.
Chaka seemed to take the hint after a minute. His attention shifted to Sephiroth instead, "Any word on Genesis?"
Sephirpth's lifted his head, "Genesis?" He repeated, "No, the case was closed three years ago."
The darker man sat up straight, "That's not what I heard."
Sephiroth's eyes flickered towards him sharply, "I have not been informed of anything new."
Chaka hesitated before taking a tentative step down the path of revolt, "Well, someone's been sending SOLDIERs to poke around in the North Crater for the last month. They're not giving specifics on what exactly they're looking for, but I can hazard a guess…"
"I see." Sephiroth murmured.
The waitress chose that moment to arrive with the bill. Chaka had just begun reaching for it when Sephiroth deftly intercepted.
"I will pay." He said and handed the girl his Shin-Ra debit card.
That was it. Chaka never got the words of protest out of his mouth, perhaps in realizing that resistance was futile where Sephiroth was concerned.
"Thank you." Tifa spoke automatically.
She felt acutely embarrassed, and annoyed. Not only because it was Sephiroth buying her a meal, but also because she was the only one who hadn't offered. She couldn't even had she wanted to. Her salary was minimal and until she was assigned some missions, it would continue to be minimal.
The waitress returned.
Sephiroth said nothing as he stood and accepted his card back from the girl, completely oblivious to the engaging smile she plastered on her face for his benefit. He was already walking away with a stern gait, leaving the poor thing to gaze forlornly at his back. Tifa shook her head infinitesimally, her lips quirked slightly to one side as she followed Chaka out.
Maybe Chaka was right after all. A woman map indeed.
That night Tifa dreamt of Nibelheim. She was standing at the gates, looking in, and as things often are in dreams, it was distorted and strange. There was a helicopter parked in front of the well, which really wasn't a well at all, but a four foot trench in the ground filled with overpriced restaurant menus. The rotor blades of the helicopter were made up of four masamunes.
She was going to fly it, according to Chaka. He was going to show her how to fly it, he said. It was going to require a live lobster and one of Hojo's mysterious vials, which was supposed to be poured over the controls for reasons that were never adequately explained.
Then Sephiroth made his untimely arrival and dream Tifa rounded on him in fury. He had killed her father – how dare he show up here! But before she could proceed with her rant, Sephiroth pressed a finger to her lips and whispered softly in her ear,
"I'm not ready to remember yet."
Tifa woke with a shiver the next morning. It hadn't been a nightmare in the normal sense, but it left her with a strange sensation in the back of her skull. The words he had spoken, while completely random and insignificant in the dream, made an eerie sort of sense to her awake.
Was the dream sending her a message? She'd never put much faith in that sort of thing, but perhaps her subconscious felt the need to warn her.
She never had any intention of bringing up the incident to Sephiroth – certainly not now. Before it had simply been a matter of avoiding detection; it was now a matter of complete urgency.
And with it came innumerable questions. How long before he remembered? What would happen when he did? Who, if anyone, was responsible for wiping his memory clean, and why?
The latter question she could guess, but the rest who could say?
Tifa shuffled through her morning routine of brushing teeth, getting dressed and putting up her hair. Her bangs were becoming troublesome as they were just short enough that they didn't stay up with the rest, and just long enough that they were visible beneath her helm. She chose to ignore it and headed out of the room, her planner and phone in hand.
At least she was remembering to check them both regularly. There was nothing new on the agenda. Chaka hadn't had time to come up with a training schedule, what with being set to work on Sephiroth's office for a few days.
There was a message from Professor Lowell however. The materia thief was still on the prowl and he was incensed, threatening consequences and emasculation to whomever was responsible.
After minute of debate, Tifa decided to give Chaka a call. He picked up immediately.
"Yo, Fry, what's up?"
"Uh," She bit her lip, "I was wondering if you could pick me up an apple on from the kitchens?"
"No problem." He answered. "Oh yeah, I talked to Angeal last night and he agreed to letting you and me trade morning workout for our one on one training session. So, meet me in the Training Room at 7, alright?"
"Okay," Tifa replied, "See you then."
"See ya."
If Tifa had thought it would be easier training with Chaka, she was badly mistaken. His true sadistic nature had only been waiting for the opportune moment to reveal itself. He didn't pull his punches either
By the end of the first hour Tifa thought she would die, or at least collapse in a heap of pain.
Chaka laughed good-naturedly. "Hey, we're just toughening up your skin, you know? You'll thank me the next time you catch a glancing blow to the ribs and your iron stomach breaks his hand."
Tifa snorted and rolled over into a fit of giggles. She clapped a hand over her mouth and bit down to keep from doing it again. "Right."
Chaka gave her a fleeting look of perplexity before smiling ruefully, "You'll see, you'll see." He straightened up from the tree trunk he'd been leaning against and walked back into the small grass clearing. "Ready?"
She lolled her head back in defeat and gave a weak nod.
"Now," He began, "I think it's dandy that you're good with a sniper rifle, but what we want to do is teach you to make the same instant kill…using just your hands."
Her mouth fell open, "But that's impossible."
Chaka approached her smoothly and poked her first in the chest and then on her forehead. "All the potential is waiting in there – we just have to find a way for you to tap into it."
"But I'm not—"
"Martial Arts aren't just about move sets, Fry." Chaka interrupted firmly. "There is a life force around us and in us that, if properly wielded, can be devastating in its power."
He punched his hand with a loud smack, making her jump.
"One punch, Fry." Chaka said and waggled a single digit in front of her nose, "One punch to incapacitate an enemy ten times as thick as that tree," he pointed (the tree in question was two feet in diameter), "Now that's power."
Tifa blinked skeptically. "You think I can do that?"
"Sure," Chaka returned easily. "You've already shown an affinity for it. You just need the proper training."
"You can do that?" She asked even more skeptically, despite herself.
He rolled his eyes. "Man, give a guy a break. I didn't get this far by being a complete slouch."
"I'm sorry." She returned quickly, "I didn't mean it that way. It's just, I thought those techniques had been lost a long time ago. Didn't the Templar monks teach them?"
"That's right." Chaka nodded. "There was an old man in my tribe who spent part of his youth in one of their temples – before they were all burned to the ground anyway – he was very old though, and it was a long time ago back then. I basically harassed him until he agreed to teach me everything he knew. Strong for a wrinkly old grandfather – handed me my ass more than a few times."
"That's amazing." Tifa murmured. "Were you hunter gatherers then? On the plains I mean."
"Pretty much." He answered. "Alright, hands up."
The next hour was the most frustrating stretch of minutes Tifa could remember experiencing in a while. It was going to be a long process, Chaka told her. A long, grueling, infuriating process, but the reward was unequaled.
"You might even beat Sephiroth one day," He let on with a wink.
The third hour was spent slaughtering various simulated fiends using the techniques that Chaka was trying to teach her. She successfully executed one shockwave that left a tiny crack in the simulated earth. Chaka was positively elated.
"See? I told ya!" He gave her a playful jab to the shoulder that almost knocked her sprawling, "You're a natural."
More like a blooming failure, but who was she to disagree with the master?
Author's Note: A little late on getting this one out. Life is busy. Anyhow, thanks everyone for all the feedback. Keep it coming, reviews are the fuel that drives me.
Faerlyte